


Father To The Man

by Warp5Complex_Archivist



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-27
Updated: 2006-03-27
Packaged: 2018-08-16 04:17:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8086810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warp5Complex_Archivist/pseuds/Warp5Complex_Archivist
Summary: The Enterprise is sent on a diplomatic mission to ferry an ambassador from one planet to another. The charming ambassador turns out to have a history with a member of the crew. (10/28/2002)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

Lt. Commander Charles Tucker III, called Trip by everyone except his mother and Sub-commander T'Pol who currently stood next to him, shifted uncomfortably in his dress uniform. The seam down the back itched maddeningly at the neck. He twitched his shoulder in a vain attempt to scratch the spot, but the itch remained. On his right T'Pol stood serenely with hands clasped loosely behind her back. Even in her dress uniform she seemed completely calm and comfortable, which for some reason Tucker found incredibly irritating. Captain Archer stood to Tucker's left and slightly ahead. At least the captain had the decency to look sweaty and awkward.

"Trip, stand still." The captain whispered as the shuttle bay doors rumbled closed behind the tiny ship which had just docked.

"I'm tryin', Cap'n." Tucker whispered back, willing his body to obey. Just then the shuttle door hissed open, and the captain stepped forward to offer a hand to the woman who was emerging from within. The rest of the assembled group leaned forward slightly to catch a glimpse of true celebrity: Dr. Lucille Parrick, ambassador from Earth, who had spent the last five years on Rigel Prime, who had negotiated an extremely favorable trade deal with the native species of seven planets, who was a personal friend of Admiral Jacobs, etcetera, etcetera. That morning Mayweather had informed everyone proudly that he had seen Dr. Parrick once on some alien planet when he was a teenager, and T'Pol had countered that she had met the ambassador on Vulcan "approximately twenty Earth years ago." Tucker suppressed a grin as he remembered the way she had said it, so proper. He turned his head a little to catch a glimpse of the sub-commander's face, and was surprised to find her regarding him with a cocked eyebrow. He quickly faced front again, reddening slightly, just in time to see the Ambassador step from the shuttle. She certainly was an imposing figure, tall and strong-looking, but with a natural grace and a sparkling smile that she was currently bringing to bear on the captain. He was beaming back like a little kid meeting Santa Claus.

"I'd like you to meet my officers." Archer said as he led the Ambassador over to the group. "My first officer, Sub-Commander T'Pol."

Dr. Parrick turned the smile to T'Pol and raised her hand in a paired-finger salute as she said something in another language, presumably Vulcan.

"I find it quite accommodating." T'Pol answered in English, returning the salute. The Ambassador's smile faltered a little, but returned to full strength as her eyes slid past T'Pol to Tucker who was next in line.

"My engineer, Commander Charles-" The captain began.

"Trip Tucker! Of course!" the Ambassador interrupted, clasping Tucker's hand with delight. He rocked back on his heels in surprise. Eyebrows flew up all around him, and he caught a clear glimpse of Mayweather's mouth hanging open in shock.

"Do I-Do I know you?" Tucker finally stammered.

"Of course! Well, I knew your parents. I haven't seen you since you were this high." She gestured just above her knee. "Why, I'd know you anywhere. You look just like your mother. How are your parents? I haven't seen them in so long!"

"F-fine, I guess. I haven't seen them in a while either."

"We must catch up, later. Perhaps we can have dinner. . . " Her voice trailed off as she turned to greet Reed, who was next in line. Tucker was left standing, slightly dazed. He looked over at T'Pol, whose eyebrow had climbed nearly into her hair. Trying to look nonchalant, he shrugged his shoulders at her and tried to suppress the grin that threatened to burst out.

* * *

"Captain, I'm not getting peak efficiency from the starboard nacelle." Mayweather informed Archer, frustration obvious in his voice.

"Can you boost the gain?"

"I've already tried that, Sir. Should I contact Commander Tucker?"

"I'll go down there. I've been meaning to check in on Ambassador Parrick too. This way I can kill two birds with one stone." Archer practically vaulted from his seat and hustled to the turbolift. Finally something interesting. After two days of gliding comfortably through space, he had to admit he was ready for a little action. Not that he didn't understand why Enterprise had been chosen to transport the ambassador, and not that he didn't think it was an important job, but he was beginning to feel like a taxi service, and it was getting a little old.

When Archer reached Engineering, he was a little surprised to find the ambassador emerging from a Jeffries Tube, with Tucker right behind her.

"Ambassador, I see you're getting the comprehensive tour," he said with a little smile. Sometimes Trip could be a little overeager when someone showed an interest in his beloved engines. "I hope Mr. Tucker isn't wearing you out."

"Not at all!" the ambassador responded brightly as she brushed dust off her clothing. "Mr. Tucker has been a very gracious host. I think it's more likely I'm wearing him out."

From behind her shoulder, Tucker grimaced, but immediately rearranged his face into a smile when she turned around. "No problem, Ma'am. I'm always happy to give tours, especially to someone who asks such interesting questions."

"Speaking of interesting questions, Trip," the captain spoke up. "We're having a little problem with the starboard engine. Travis says it's not working at peak efficiency."

"What? Let's have a look." Tucker moved quickly to the nearest console and punched some buttons that looked random to Archer. Then he looked up with a frown on his face. "You're right, Captain. I'll get on it as soon as I can. Doesn't look serious-probably one of the relays is down so the engine is routing power around it."

"That's great, Trip. No hurry. Ambassador, I was hoping you would join me for dinner tonight."

"Oh, I was going to eat with Mr. Tucker. We already made the arrangements."

"Trip is invited too. He and T'Pol usually eat dinner with me anyway."

"Well, all right. We'll be there."

"My ready room, 1800 hours."

With a final nod to the ambassador, Archer turned on his heel and strode out of engineering.

* * *

"Lights out" T'Pol ordered the computer as she lay back on her pillow. When the lights had dimmed, she closed her eyes and was instantly asleep.

The Vulcan found herself standing in a doorway facing a hallway. From one end of the hallway she could hear the sound of crying. Moving in that direction, she spotted a small child with golden hair, huddled under a small table, hugging its knees with its face buried in its arms.

"Why are you crying?" she asked evenly. The child did not respond. Just then the sound of a door slamming caught her attention. This was followed by the voice of a woman screaming profanities.

"You'll be sorry, you little son of a bitch!" the voice shrieked. T'Pol turned back to the child to see it trying to push its way further under the table, drawing its feet back in a vain attempt to hide. Its little body shook in fear.

Now the sound of heavy footsteps could be heard in the hallway, and T'Pol swung her head around to see a figure moving in her direction. Or rather, in the direction of the child. T'Pol had observed no evidence to lead her to believe that either of the other people in the hallway knew she was even there.

The woman moved closer, continuing to scream insults, presumably at the child whose hands were now firmly pressed over its ears. T'Pol could not make out her face, only the general shape of her body. The woman had reached the end of the hallway, and reached under the table to grab the child's arm.

"I've got you now, little bastard" she hissed at the child as she began to drag it out from under the table and down the hallway. The child struggled and the woman thumped it soundly on the head, continuing to beat it until they had reached a doorway near the end of the hall. She opened the door and threw the child inside, slamming the door behind them.

As suddenly as it had arrived, the scene disappeared, and T'Pol found herself back in her quarters. "Lights on!" she commanded the computer, and instantly her quarters were illuminated. She threw back the covers and got out of bed, moving to her small kitchenette and mechanically starting water boiling for a cup of tea. She found the dream quite disturbing, even though in the cold light of her quarters she found that the details were less than realistic. Neither of the people in the dream was familiar to her, and the situation was certainly unfamiliar. She found it difficult to believe that anyone would treat a small child that way, although she had heard stories of "child abuse" during her short time on Earth. In one course she had taken entitled "Improving Human/Vulcan relations," the human professor had mentioned it in passing as a less than admirable feature of human cultures. The professor had emphasized that this behavior was not condoned by human societies.

Taking her cup of tea with her, T'Pol moved to her meditation area and methodically lit the candles. Meditation would clear her mind of these disturbing images.

* * *

Captain Jonathon Archer leaned back in his chair in the ready room and surveyed his group of officers. The meeting was supposed to have started five minutes ago, but the group was still incomplete, missing only one person: Trip Tucker. This was the second day in a row that Tucker had been late to a meeting, which meant that Archer was going to have to talk to him. Or maybe that was T'Pol's job? Archer watched the door grimly, mentally counting the seconds. Maybe he should give the younger man some leeway. The Ambassador had certainly been monopolizing Tucker's time lately, demanding tours of engineering and even crawling through Jeffries' tubes to inspect the engineer's "improvements" to some minor systems. The woman never slowed down; Archer didn't know where she got the energy.

Just then the doors to the ready room slid open and Tucker flew in, red-faced, with his hair askew and his collar unbuttoned. "Sorry, Cap'n, I-" Archer held up his hand.

"No apologies necessary, Commander. If you'll just take your seat we'll get started."

Turning even redder, Tucker slid into the empty chair next to T'Pol, who studiously ignored him.

"All right, folks. In three days, we'll be arriving at our next stop, Denarius 4, where we'll be dropping off the Ambassador. This planet has had some civil unrest lately and is known to be hostile to outsiders. Lt. Reed, how are the upgrades on our weapons' systems coming along?"

"On schedule, Sir. Ensign Cooper and I will be putting the final touches on by tomorrow. We're also upgrading the sensors so we'll have more notice if an approaching ship has its weapons armed."

"Excellent, Malcolm. Trip, how are the repairs to the starboard nacelle going?"

Tucker didn't answer. His head was down and he seemed fascinated with his hands.

"Commander Tucker!"

Tucker looked up with a startled expression on his face. "I'm sorry, Cap'n. What was the question?"

Archer narrowed his eyes at his chief engineer. What was wrong with the man? Although-Tucker had been known to lose concentration during meetings before, usually staring out the window.

"I said" Archer repeated sharply, "How are the repairs on the starboard nacelle going?"

"Oh, uh-I'm gonna work on that today. Doesn't seem to affect our warp drive, just decreases the efficiency a little. I was-uh-working on other stuff." Tucker returned to his contemplation of his hands.

"Ok, that's fine. Let me know when you've finished." At that, Archer steered the meeting to other topics, stealing a glance at Tucker every now and then and noticing that the engineer never looked up again.

* * *

Tucker pressed the latch beside the door to his quarters and stepped inside. To his surprise, the lights were on and soft music was playing.

"Hello?" he said.

"Why, hello there."

Tucker spun around to find Ambassador Parrick standing behind him. With one hand she pressed the button to close the door. In the other hand she held a nasty-looking little gun which she pushed into Tucker's side. Tucker took a step back, further into the room. Parrick followed him with a small, cruel smile on her face.

"Wh--what are you doing?" he managed to say, his eyes locked on the weapon.

"We're going to have a little fun, just like we did before. But you don't remember that, do you?"

Tucker just stared at her blankly. Nervously he bit his lower lip.

"No, I can see that you don't. Well, maybe it will come back to you." She backed Tucker up until his back was against the wall. He spread his hands on the smooth, cold bulkhead as his mind worked furiously. The nightmares. It had to be. The face he couldn't see, the hands that had haunted his dreams since he was child, they belonged to her.

Parrick slowly caressed his cheek with the point of the weapon. "Don't bother to call for help. I've disabled the comm link in your quarters. I wouldn't want anyone interrupting our fun. Now let's go to the bed, shall we?"

"Please-please don't do this." Trip said softly.

Strong fingers grabbed him by the hair as her voice turned to steel. "Shut up, you little son of a bitch! Go!" With that, she dragged him across the room, digging the point of the weapon into his temple. She flung him down onto the bed.

"Take your clothes off." She snarled. Her lip curled up in a sneer.

"No! Please-" Parrick advanced on him, right hand up-raised. He caught a flash of light reflecting off her ring just before she back-handed him across the face. The stone in her ring cut into his cheek hard enough to draw blood. He backed up, hand to his face, feeling the sticky wetness there.

With that same cruel smile, Parrick ordered him to undress again. This time he obeyed. When he stood before her in his underwear, she pushed him down onto the bed and quickly restrained him with handcuffs she had pulled from her pockets.

* * *

The sound of crying again. The same child huddled under the hall table. This time T'Pol knew she was dreaming, the same dream she had had four nights in a row now. The same voice, screaming profanities. The woman's figure moving down the hall. T'Pol still could not make out the face, but she could clearly see the left hand, reaching down to drag the child out from under the table and down the hall. As usual, T'Pol followed, knowing she would wake up as soon as the door shut behind them. The woman threw the child into the room, but this time it was different. She did not close the door behind them. Through the open doorway T'Pol could clearly hear the child crying and pleading with the woman.

Surprised that the dream had continued, T'Pol hesitantly entered the room, which turned out to be a bedroom. The woman had the child down on the bed, one hand holding its arms above its head. Her other hand fumbled with the child's clothing. The child squirmed and cried. The woman's right hand came up, and T'Pol got a clear look at the ring on her middle finger before she brought the hand crashing down onto the child's face, leaving a long, bloody gash in its cheek. The child stopped struggling and lay still, whimpering, while the woman yanked its shirt up and unzipped its pants.

The dream abruptly disappeared and T'Pol found herself once again in her bed. She threw back the covers and practically ran for her teakettle. Once her tea was ready, she quickly lit the candles and settled into her familiar meditation pose. But her mind would not clear. She kept seeing, over and over, the woman's hand rising to strike the child in the face. She focused in on the hand, the ring-very unusual. T'Pol forced herself to appraise the ring analytically, separated from her strong emotional response to the scene. The body of the ring was formed from a silver metal in the shape of two serpents, their bodies entwined. Each serpent had one tiny red stone for an eye, and each held a slightly larger green stone in its mouth. T'Pol could picture it quite clearly in her mind, although she was certain she had never seen it before in reality. Still unsettled, T'Pol again tried to clear her mind. This time she successfully entered the familiar peace of meditation.

* * *

Tucker lay very still on his bed. His arms ached from the restraints, and the scratch on his cheek throbbed with every heartbeat. Dr. Parrick had been in the bathroom for several minutes now, and he became more and more anxious with every passing second. Finally the door slid back and she re-entered the bedroom. She had fixed her hair, cleaned up her makeup a little. The cruel sneer returned as she advance on Tucker again. He wanted to get away, to lash out, anything, but he forced himself to remain completely still.

Parrick touched the point of the gun to his injured cheek, gently stroked along the gash. "I might let you up now, if you promise to be a good boy."

Tucker didn't answer. He swallowed past the lump in his throat.

Parrick slid the muzzle of the gun down his neck. "I know you won't tell anyone what we did. It'll be our little secret, just like before. You see, if you tell anyone, I'll be forced to tell a few things I know about you." The corner of her lip curled up again into the now-familiar sneer. Tucker suddenly found it difficult to breathe.

"Wh-what kind of things?" he asked in a broken voice.

"Just a few things I happen to know that might ruin a few careers." She purred. "things like, who your mother has been sleeping with."

Tucker felt the muscles in his cheek tighten.

"And what really happened to your father's unit in Algeria."

Tucker clenched his teeth together.

"And of course, how you cheated on your Starfleet entrance exam. Maybe you thought no one knew about that one."

Tucker stopped breathing. It was like his body had forgotten how. Oh, God, no! Please, no!

"So you see, I'm sure you can keep a secret as well as I can." She unlocked his left wrist and pressed the handcuff keys into his palm. "You can finish unlocking yourself after I leave."

With a final pat to his stomach, Dr. Parrick stood and strode out, never looking back. As soon as the door to his quarters slid shut, Tucker frantically began unlocking the handcuffs, freeing his other hand and then his feet. When he was finally free, he dashed to the bathroom with one hand pressed to his stomach and the other over his mouth. He barely made it to the toilet before he vomited, repeatedly, until his stomach was empty, and even then he kept dry-heaving, choking, gagging. Finally he flushed the toilet, closing his eyes tightly against the waves of nausea. He swished some water around in his mouth and spit in the sink. Just having the water in his mouth started him gagging again.

With trembling hands Tucker started the shower, turning the temperature up as high as it would go. He stumbled in, ignoring the scalding heat, grabbing for the soap. He soaped up quickly, scrubbed, rinsed, then did it again, and again, rubbing at the dried blood on his face until his skin was raw from the hot water and scouring. Finally he found himself unable to continue. The lump in his stomach came up to meet the lump in his throat and forced its way out in a gut-wrenching sob. He dropped the soap, not noticing as it was rinsed away down the drain. His hands came up to cover his face; the sobs seized his entire body; he shook violently, shoulders heaving. Tucker leaned against the hard, unforgiving walls of the shower stall and cried as he had so many years ago.

Finally the shaking slowed, then stopped. Tucker turned off the water and dried himself unthinkingly. He felt numb all over, detached. It didn't really happen, he told himself as he looked in the mirror, but the evidence was right there on his face.

"Tucker, you're a lousy liar," he told his reflection. He probed the gash fiercely with his fingertips, ignoring the pain. It looked like the bleeding had stopped, but the scratch was still clearly evident, along with a bruise that was just turning bluish-black. He would have to think of a story for that, and pray that people would believe him. He knew he was a poor liar, knew that his red ears and darting eyes gave him away. That was why he avoided playing poker. The first and only game he had played on this ship, Mayweather and Reed had cleaned him out in under five minutes.

Tucker exited the bathroom and began to dress, putting on three layers including a long sleeved shirt and a sweatshirt before he started to feel somewhat warm. Then he began straightening up. He found the key where he had dropped it and unlocked the handcuffs from the bed. Those he tossed into the recycler. Next he stripped the sheets from his bed and stuffed them down the laundry chute.

Tucker pulled a spare blanket from his closet and wrapped up in it on the couch. He didn't have the strength to re-make his bed tonight, and he didn't think he could bring himself to sleep in it anyway. Not now. Maybe not ever again.

* * *

Captain Archer leaned back in his chair and folded his arms over his chest. Ten minutes they had waited-that was long enough. Tucker couldn't be allowed to waste everyone's time. They would be arriving at Denarius 4 in less than 24 hours and they had to be ready. This briefing was important, dammit, and Tucker ought to know that. They would have to start without him.

Approximately thirty minutes later, Archer dismissed the officers with a sour smile. T'Pol started to get up from her seat, but Archer stopped her with an upraised hand.

"T'Pol, please stay."

When the rest of the officers had cleared out, Archer sank back into his chair with a sigh. He rubbed his hands over his face wearily. "Did you notice we were one short today?"

"Commander Tucker was absent."

"Yeah, that's right. Why is that?"

"I don't know. I haven't seen him today." T'Pol answered evenly.

"Well, T'Pol, I'd like you to find out."

"Me, sir?"

"Yes, you. You are the first officer. Crew behavior and compliance is your responsibility, isn't it?"

"Yes, Captain."

"Then go-chew him out a little."

"Chew him out?" T'Pol remembered hearing that expression before, from a student at the academy. She knew what it meant but she wasn't sure how to do it. "What should I say?"

"Just-let him know his behavior isn't acceptable. Warn him that--that if it happens again you'll have to officially reprimand him. Tomorrow morning I would like to see his shining face here at the conference table. Am I making myself clear?"

"Yes, Captain."

"Dismissed, then."

* * *

"Computer, locate Commander Tucker." T'Pol said into the comm panel in the corridor.

"Commander Tucker is in the starboard nacelle." It replied.

T'Pol's eyebrow climbed. Perhaps he was indeed working instead of sleeping in as she had suspected.

T'Pol squeezed her way past the open access panels in the nacelle walkway toward the end of the narrow corridor where she could hear the clanging and muttering of Commander Tucker at work. As she walked, she rehearsed what she would tell him. The wording had to be right, so that he would understand the seriousness of the message, and yet not be offended that she dared reprimand him. She knew she had little chance of getting out of the situation without an argument. By now she had reached the open panel behind which Commander Tucker was working.

"Commander Tucker," she said in a firm voice.

His head popped up over the top of the access panel door. T'Pol froze, her eyes locked on the scrape on his face. In her mind she saw again the hand raised to strike, the flash from the ring. Suddenly the dream made sense. It was not her dream at all; it was his!

"Commander Tucker," she repeated, more softly this time. "What happened to your face?"

His hand flew to his cheek, as if hiding the injury would make it go away. "I-uh-I fell-in my quarters. I hit it on the table."

T'Pol skirted the open access door and moved closer to him. She could see his hand trembling. She was fairly certain he was lying to her, but she was not sure why. The incident in the dream had obviously occurred long ago.

"You have been having nightmares. Is that not correct?"

"What? What makes you think that?"

"You were a child, perhaps four years old. You were hiding under a hall table. A woman whose face you could not see dragged you into a bedroom andâ€”injured you."

Tucker chewed on his lower lip. "I don't know what you're talking about" he responded in a choked voice as he turned back to his work. "Is there something you wanted to tell me? I'm kinda busy here."

T'Pol watched him work for just a moment, noticing the tightness in his shoulders. She debated what to do. This matter was obviously affecting his work, and yet-if he did not wish to talk about it, she did not feel comfortable invading his privacy. Finally she made her decision.

"The captain asked me to speak to you about your conduct, namely your lack of promptness and attendance at the morning briefings."

Tucker responded without turning around. "Oh, shit. I forgot all about the meeting. Why didn't anybody call me?"

"It is your responsibility to arrive on time to meetings." T'Pol said to his back. "The captain would like you to arrive promptly tomorrow morning."

"Yeah, OK, I'll be there. No sweat."

T'Pol watched him for a moment longer. She wondered if this level of discussion qualified as "chewing him out" as the captain had ordered. She did not know what else she could do: she had informed him of his error and he had readily agreed to remedy the situation. She decided that was enough for now.

"Very well. I do not expect we will have to discuss this matter again." T'Pol turned on her heel and walked away down the corridor. She would see in the morning if her "chewing out" had been effective. In the meantime. . .that mark on Tucker's face had been fresh, and he was clearly lying about where it came from. Even given her limited experience with humans, that much had been obvious. Could someone on board the ship have hurt him? It was possible, but who would do such a thing? She could think of no one. And if he was unwilling to discuss it, what course of action was open to her? She could inform the doctor or the captain, but she knew from experience with this man that this would only make him angry and less likely to confide in her. By the time T'Pol reached the turbolift, she had decided to wait until the next day to see what happened next. If he continued to refuse to talk to her, or if she saw fresh bruises on him, she would bring the matter to the doctor's attention.

* * *

As the door to his quarters slid open, Tucker again found that the lights were on. He stepped in cautiously and found Parrick sitting on his sofa, her arm draped over the back. The phaser hung from her fingers.

"Ah, Trip. How nice to see you."

Tucker stepped far enough into the room for the doors to close behind him, and stood silently, willing himself not to start shaking.

"What do you want?" he finally choked out.

Parrick rose to her feet and moved toward him, cat-like. The hand holding the gun was rock steady. "I just wanted to remind you of our little discussion the other night."

"I remember."

"It would be a shame if you couldn't keep your mouth shut about our little secret."

Tucker swallowed nervously but didn't respond. What was she going to do to him this time?

The gun came up to stroke his injured cheek again. "Of course, no one would believe you," she purred. "But they would believe the things I could tell them about you and your family. I'm sure you don't want that."

Tucker still didn't respond. He didn't trust himself to open his mouth. Parrick pressed the muzzle of the phaser into his cheek. "So you'll be good and not mention this to anyone," she said tightly.

"I won't tell anyone."

The hand holding the phaser relaxed a little and she broke into a smile. "Very good. I know I can trust you." Parrick's fingers moved into Tucker's hair, stroking him gently. Then she pressed the release for the door and moved out, slipping the phaser into her pocket as she left.

When the door had closed behind her, Tucker pressed his back against the smooth, cold metal and slid down until he hit the floor, fighting to keep the bile down in his throat. He wrapped his arms around his knees and finally gave in to the shaking. His mind jumped incoherently from one thought to another; all sense of order in his universe had disappeared and he was drifting, lost. Finally, after nearly an hour, his body relaxed a little and he dropped off to sleep right there inside his door, not even waking when the nightmare came to him again. This time he could clearly see the face of his attacker.

* * *

Captain Archer was feeling pretty good, despite the uncomfortable dress uniform, as he escorted Ambassador Parrick into the shuttle bay. Trip had shown up for briefing this morning, on time even. Reed had reported the improvements in sensors and weapons were up and running, and the starboard nacelle was again operating at peak efficiency. And best of all, his VIP guest was finally leaving the ship. Not that he disliked her, quite the contrary. It was just that, well-his ship was not built to ferry around celebrities. As soon as they dropped Parrick off, they could get back to their real job, which was a lot less mind-numbing.

As Archer approached the shuttle, he turned to make sure his officers were still following him. T'Pol, of course, seemed serene as always. Tucker looked itchy and a bit pale, as he had all day. Archer considered that his next orders to T'Pol might include talking to Trip about getting adequate sleep.

Standing behind Trip was Reed, who looked slightly more vigilant than usual. The man always looked like he was ready to blow something up at a moment's notice. Well, so far there had been no need of any of that on this little side-trip.

Archer turned his attention back to the ambassador. "I hope you enjoyed your time with us, Ambassador Parrick."

The woman smiled brightly. "It was delightful, Captain. Thank you so much for your hospitality. I plan to write to Admiral Jacobs and tell him what wonderful hosts you all were." She held out her right hand to Archer, who took it in his own.

T'Pol had found her thoughts drifting during the formalities, but now she snapped back to the present. The ring! The ring on the ambassador's hand was unmistakably one and the same with the ring from her dream-Tucker's dream! T'Pol turned her head quickly to look at Commander Tucker. His face had turned pale, and his eyes were locked on that ring. She looked back to the ambassador, who had dropped Captain Archer's hand and was moving toward the shuttle. Behind her, T'Pol heard a rustling sound, then the doors of the shuttle bay opening and closing. When she turned back, she found that Tucker was gone and Reed had a very surprised look on his face.

"Captain!" she said quickly, moving to cut off Ambassador Parrick's access to the shuttle. He gave her a quizzical look. "There is a problem with the Ambassador's shuttle. Please stay here. I will be back shortly." Then she dashed out of the shuttle bay after Commander Tucker.

Captain Archer watched the Vulcan leave in surprise. What was going on here? His officers had certainly been acting strange lately.

"Captain, what is the problem?" asked Ambassador Parrick in a slightly irritated tone.

"I'm sure we'll find out soon, Ambassador. In the meantime, perhaps you'd like a cup of tea, or-"

"I would like to be underway. I am expected for a meeting with the prime minister of Denarius 4. It is not polite to keep diplomats waiting."

"We'll get you on your way as quickly as possible. You can wait more comfortably in the briefing room." Archer responded firmly as he tried to pretend he was not intimidated by this woman. She made a noise of displeasure but did not object further. Archer led the way to the turbolift.

Where would Commander Tucker go? T'Pol asked herself as she hurried down the corridor. It was unlikely he would return to his quarters as she was almost certain the assault had taken place there. Engineering was too busy, too many people. She paused at a comm panel long enough to query the computer on his whereabouts.

"Commander Tucker is in the starboard observation lounge." T'Pol knew the lounge. It was almost always empty, especially in the middle of a duty shift.

The door to the observation lounge slid back at T'Pol's touch to reveal an apparently empty room. Her sharp ears picked up the sound of crying, as in the dream. She cautiously moved toward the observation window, scanning down each row of seats for Tucker.

"Commander Tucker?' she called softly.

The crying stopped, as if he was holding his breath.

"Commander, it's all right. She will not harm you again."

"Leave me alone," came his voice, harsh with emotion.

T'Pol moved in the direction of the sound until she came upon the engineer, huddled against the glass with his arms wrapped around his knees. In the soft light from the window, he looked very much like the child in the dream. Her eyes scanned down to where his sleeve had been pushed up slightly to reveal purple-black bruises circling his wrist like a bracelet. The ambassador had apparently used some sort of restraints on him. T'Pol wondered how many more injuries were hiding under his clothing. The ambassador was a powerful woman, and if he was unable to defend himself, there was no telling what she could have done to him.

Keeping her empty hands carefully in view, T'Pol crouched in front of the commander, who had not yet met her eye although he could not fail to be aware of her presence.

"Commander, please tell me what she did."

"You already know." He responded in a broken voice.

"She hurt you." T'Pol stated simply. Tucker's head bobbed once but he still did not look up.

"When you were a child." His head bobbed again.

"I-I didn't remember it. I used to have those nightmares all the time, but I never knew where they came from. Then when she-when she got here they came back. I didn't remember. . . "

"And she did it again, the night before last." T'Pol tried to keep her voice gentle. She did not want to hurt him further. His only response was a shudder as his shoulders began to shake. T'Pol reached out and laid a hand on his trembling arm.

"Mr. Tucker, you must tell the captain what happened."

He shook his head. "I can't, T'Pol. I-I just can't."

"Commander, she injured you--"

"You don't understand!" he exploded. "I can't tell anyone!" Tucker swiped angrily at his face with his palms.

T'Pol watched him in silence for a moment. If he did not inform the captain, now before Parrick left the ship, she would be free to repeat her crimes.

"What if you are not her only victim?"

Tucker became very still.

"What if you allow her to leave this ship, and tomorrow she injures another child? The reasons for revealing the assault outweigh any reason you might have for remaining silent."

Tucker did not answer for a long time. When his eyes finally met hers, they were red-rimmed and troubled. "You're right. I can't let her put anyone else through this."

T'Pol nodded encouragingly. "We must talk to the captain now, before the ambassador leaves the ship."

The engineer swiped at his face again. "Can-can you tell him?"

"Yes, I will tell him, if you consent to being examined by the doctor."

"-and, T'Pol-tell him not to believe anything she says about-about me. Please?"

"All right, Commander. I will take you to sick bay on my way."

* * *

In the briefing room, Ambassador Parrick was becoming increasingly agitated. She paced the small space in barely contained fury as Archer sat at the table with his rapidly cooling cup of tea.

"I do not understand what is taking so long," she fumed.

"You never know with technology. I'm sure Commander Tucker and Sub-commander T'Pol are working as quickly as they can," Archer responded coolly. It seemed that the more distraught the ambassador became, the more Archer relaxed. He had always been that way; it drove his sister nuts.

"I would not be surprised if there was no malfunction at all. Your Commander Tucker is quite an accomplished liar, you know."

That managed to throw the captain. Trip, a liar? Hardly! The man's every emotion showed up instantly on his face, which caused Trip no end of distress. Besides, it was T'Pol, not Trip, who had said there was a problem with the shuttle. Alarm bells were going off in Archer's head even before T'Pol walked in the door with Reed trailing behind her.

"Remain here, Lieutenant," she ordered. He nodded and took up a position by the door.

"Captain, I need to speak with you."

"That sounds like a good idea, Sub-commander."

"Please join me in your ready room."

T'Pol moved into the next room. When Archer had followed, she touched the controls to lock the door.

"What's going on, T'pol?" Archer asked, trying and failing to keep the exasperation from his voice.

"Captain, the ambassador assaulted Commander Tucker."

"What!? What are you talking about?"

"She molested him, when he was a child, and then again the night before last. That is how his cheek became injured. She hit him."

"He said he fell . . ."

"That was not true. I believe he was ashamed of what happened to him and did not want anyone to know."

"So how did you figure it out?"

"He has been having recurring nightmares. Somehow these nightmares were transferred to me. In the dream I saw his attacker strike him, and I saw her ring. When I saw it again today, I knew that Ambassador Parrick had been the assailant. He confirmed it a few moments ago."

Archer's fists clenched as he pounded the door release button. With anger boiling just beneath the surface, he strode into the briefing room. "Mr. Reed," he said in a deceptively calm voice, "the ambassador is under arrest. Please search her for weapons and escort her to the brig."

* * *

"You want me to do WHAT?"

If the situation hadn't been so serious, Archer might have found the expression on Admiral Cooper's face amusing.

"She assaulted my officer! Why shouldn't she face charges for that?"

"You're basing your accusation on-on what? Recovered memories? Childhood nightmares? Vulcan mind tricks? Jonathon, Admiral Parrick's lawyers will tear us to shreds. Do you have any hard evidence?"

"My ship's doctor says Commander Tucker has cuts and bruises consistent with an assault."

"Didn't he originally say he got those bruises in a fall?"

"Yes, but-"

"And he apparently threw the evidence away and didn't seek medical attention until two days later? Jonathon, I can't file charges against the most famous ambassador Earth has ever had based on that!"

"Admiral-"

"Where is the ambassador now?"

"In my brig."

"Your brig!?? Release her immediately!"

"I won't allow her to leave the ship. I can't do that to Commander Tucker. He risked a lot to come forward."

The admiral ran a hand through her short red hair in frustration. "I will allow you to confine her to quarters, but she is to be treated with respect."

"Will you at least investigate the charges?"

The admiral's face was serious. "Yes, I will start a quiet investigation. In the meantime, you're not to discuss this with anyone without my express permission. The media would have a field day with this one. Am I understood?"

"Admiral, I have to contact his parents. They need to know what happened to him."

"Allegedly happened." The admiral responded automatically. "Yes, I suppose the boy's parents will have to be told. I'll contact them myself."

"Yes, Admiral Cooper."

As the transmission ended, Captain Archer sat back in his chair to think. What would happen if the press got ahold of this information? Child molestors rarely had only one victim. . .

Archer pressed the comm button on his desk. "T'Pol, please report to my ready room."

* * *

After two more days of attempting to explain to an increasingly hostile prime minister of Denarius 4 that the ambassador had been delayed due to technical problems, Archer ordered Mayweather to leave orbit. Although the rest of the crew was obviously curious as to why Ambassador Parrick had been confined to quarters, no one had come out and asked yet, for which Archer was extremely grateful. Reed, of course, had asked no questions when Archer ordered a 24-hour armed guard outside the ambassador's quarters. Near the end of Archer's duty shift on the second day, a transmission came again from Admiral Cooper.

"Captain, it appears that you disregarded my orders regarding speaking to others about this issue. The story was all over the media last night."

"I spoke only to those who already knew the situation." Archer responded truthfully.

"Hmmm. Well, anyway, it appears that your Commander Tucker was neither the first or last child harmed by Ambassador Parrick. My office has received calls from four more alleged victims this morning. Each told a very similar story to your officer's."

"Oh, God," Archer whispered.

"I'll be sending a Star Fleet transport to return Ambassador Parrick to Earth. Please rendezvous in orbit around Vulcan. Tell your officer it is unlikely he will have to testify. Oh, and please, tell him to call his mother. Maybe then she'll quit harassing my secretary. Cooper out."

The screen faded to black, leaving Archer sitting in stunned silence for a long moment. Finally he got up and headed towards Trip's quarters, stopping on the way to inform Mayweather that they should head toward Vulcan at maximum warp.

* * *

When Archer reached Trip's door he hesitated. In the past two days Trip had been unnaturally quiet. He had refused to take any time off, but Ensign Navarro from Engineering had informed the captain that Trip seemed to be hiding in the starboard nacelle, fixing things that weren't broken. Every time Archer saw him the man refused to make eye contact. Well, perhaps the news Archer was about to give him would help a little. He pressed the doorchime.

"Who is it?" came Trip's voice through the comm.

"It's Archer."

"Come in."

The door slid back to reveal Tucker sitting cross-legged on his bed. He had something--it looked like a toy spaceship--which he turned over and over in his hands. The gash on his cheek had faded to a thin red line and the bruise was nearly gone. Archer looked around the room, which was messier than usual. Blankets and a pillow covered the sofa, where Trip had obviously been sleeping. Discarded clothing was piled on the only chair in the room. Archer dropped the pile onto the floor and settled himself into the chair without waiting for an invitation.

"I got a call from Admiral Cooper."

Tucker didn't look up from his examination of the toy ship. "What did she have to say?"

"The media got ahold of the story."

Trip finally lifted his eyes to meet the captain's. Archer was surprised to see the depths of his fear there. The captain took a deep breath.

"You're not the only victim. There are at least four more who have come forward since the story broke. Admiral Cooper is sending a shuttle to take Parrick back to headquarters."

Tucker shut his eyes tightly. When he opened them again, some of his usual sparkle had returned. "Can I call my mama now?"

Archer nodded. "That's probably a good idea. And Trip. . .Cooper doesn't think you'll have to testify."

Tucker let out a long breath that he hadn't realized he was holding. He felt like the weight of the world had been lifted off his shoulders. "Thank you, Captain." He said with the first smile that had touched his lips in several days.

Archer returned the grin. "You're welcome, my friend."

After Archer left, Tucker turned the toy ship over and traced the inscription on the underside with his thumb. The words were faded and barely visible, but he knew what it said. "To my little ray of sunshine, from Auntie Lucille."

* * *

_Epilogue_

It had been nearly two weeks since Enterprise had transferred Ambassador Parrick to Starfleet custody. They were once again headed for deep space, leaving Vulcan far behind. Everything seemed to be back to business as usual, except for speculative conversations still taking place with alarming frequency in the mess hall. In engineering, things were still a little uncomfortable. T'Pol had received several complaints from ensigns and crewmen about Commander Tucker's behavior, which was increasingly moody and erratic. She knew the nightmares had not gone away, and had in fact changed her duty shift so she would not be sleeping when he was. Finally, when the fourth ensign in two days came to talk to her about being yelled at by Tucker, she knew she had to talk to him.

When T'Pol entered Tucker's quarters, he was seated at his desk surrounded by PADDs. She knew he had been off-duty for 12.3 hours, but he was still dressed in his uniform, face unshaven, looking a little bleary-eyed.

"What do you want, T'Pol?" he asked without looking up.

"Your nightmares have not gone away."

"Yeah, so what? Do you want some kinda prize for reading my mind?"

"Commander. . ." She waited.

After a few minutes he dropped the PADD wearily onto the desk. "I-I'm sorry. I just don't know what I can do about it. They'll go away when they go away. Until then-I guess I'm not gonna be sleeping much." He rubbed at his red-rimmed eyes with his fists.

T'Pol moved to his bed and sat, primly. She leaned forward towards him. "I believe I can help you."

"How?"

"There is a Vulcan technique, called a mind meld. . ."

"Isn't that what that guy did to you, put you in sick bay if I remember right."

"It is not intended to hurt. I can help you forget what happened."

Tucker dropped his eyes back down to his desk, and when he raised them again, they were clear, determined. "No, T'Pol. I don't want to forget. That's what caused so much trouble the first time. I have to-to work through this."

Seeing the determination in his eyes, T'Pol nodded thoughtfully. "Very well. I am available if you want to talk about your emotions."

He smiled slightly. "I'll keep that in mind."

She stood, but before moving toward the door, she laid her hand briefly on his cheek, dropping her mental shielding just the slightest little bit so he could sense her concern for him. Then she was gone.

After she left, Tucker continued to sit in his desk chair for a long moment, staring into space. Then, shaking his head, he pushed himself to his feet and headed toward the shower. It was time to rejoin the land of the living.


End file.
